Love is Blond, and Lovers Cannot See
by thinkpink23
Summary: "When Felix arrived home that night, he was blond. He pressed his hat to his skull with both gloved hands and kept his head as low as he could manage upon approach, but he was still blond, and he knew there was no possible way that Sergeant Tamora Calhoun would not notice. And now he stood on his own front porch, clutching his hat for dear life..."


**I actually wrote another thing. Possibly not my best work, but anyway.**

**This is for you, Tammy.**

* * *

When Felix arrived home that night, he was blond.

He pressed his hat to his skull with both gloved hands and kept his head as low as he could manage upon approach, but he was still blond, and he knew there was no possible way that Sergeant Tamora Calhoun would _not_ notice. His wife had a keen eye, but even had she suffered from severe nearsightedness it would have been plain as anything. Felix was sure he looked_ awful_ ridiculous.

It wasn't permanent. Just a couple...a few…well, just over several hours, and then the arcade would reopen, the next game would start, and all maladies, ills, afflictions, and hydrogen peroxide hair lightening solution would disappear in the reset.

Going blond hadn't been Felix's idea, in the first place. Anyone who knew him even remotely well could vouch that Felix would never undergo any voluntary change that would reap unwanted attention. It had all been Vanellope's idea; and in his defense, Felix staunchly reminded himself, he hadn't even been awake during the moment of operation. A late-night conversation with Tammy and a full day of arcade hours had left him practically sleep-walking, and Felix had had barely just enough energy to drag himself to Sugar Rush to meet with Vanellope like he had promised to a day previous. He remembered, faintly, that he had been heartily welcomed and offered a snack amidst Vanellope-esque chitter-chatter, was gradually overtaken by sleep, and later awoke feeling lightheaded…in more ways than one. A hand mirror supplied to him by the offender evoked an astonished squeak and a horrorstruck "oh my land".

"What?" a tickled Vanellope had asked, shoving her hands into her pockets with a grin. "I think the new Felix looks pre-tty classy."

Felix had been inclined to disagree, made sure his caring host was aware of his opinion, and closed the appointment rather abruptly.

And now he stood on his own front porch, clutching his hat for dear life and praying that Tamora wouldn't acknowledge the change too deeply. Felix was consciously aware that his hat didn't conceal his sideburns or his bangs, and even more consciously aware that Tammy almost _never_ took anything lightly (Felix cringed at the unintended pun which only further reminded him of his plight).

He gave a meek little knock on the glossy wood of the door. It wasn't locked (there was no reason why it _should _be, in a place called Niceland), but out of common courtesy Felix knocked anyway. Courtesy was something that Felix never had in short supply.

The door swung open barely two seconds after Felix had withdrawn his arm, and the latter quickly averted his gaze to the ground as he felt his wife's eyes upon him. Felix knew, even if he didn't like to admit it, that Tammy was roughly twice his height, and if all went smoothly perhaps the idea of her _not_ noticing wouldn't be so farfetched after all.

"There you are, shortstack," she greeted him. The words on their lonesome were less than warm, but there was something else in her tone of voice that made up for it. Marrying Sergeant Calhoun was like signing up for a crash course on reading between the lines.

"Been waiting all day to see you, sugarplum," Felix responded, giving a bright-eyed smile and raising his head ever so slightly so as not to raise suspicion. The pet name usage provoked a giggle from the addressee. Or rather, something that was meant to be a giggle but came out sounding like a snort. Tammy had a bit of an unconventional laugh, and she wasn't proud of it, but in Felix's ears an angel couldn't have made a prettier-sounding noise.

"Come here, you," Tammy smirked, and before Felix could do a single thing she lifted him up, causing panic to paralyze his brain. She was _sure_ to get a clear view of his hair now!—Felix pulled the brim of his hat down just as Tamora closed her eyes shut and planted a kiss on his lips. The gesture seemed to end as suddenly as it had begun, and soon Tammy raised him even higher into the air the same way one might hold a puppy or a kitten.

And then—golly Miss Molly!—she set him down and clamped her fingers on the brim of his hat. Felix knew what was coming—on any other day he would have gladly accepted her teasing display of affection, but today—!

He would have made some kind of protest, had he not been so shocked, but no such grace was allowed and with one fluid motion the hat was off. Felix flinched and slapped his arms over his head, fearing the worst—but opening his eyes just a sliver, he discovered that Tamora and his hat had already retreated into the house. Tamora seemed to have left the front room in favor of the kitchen, judging by the smell of burning matter (a sure sign that she had taken it upon herself to prepare something akin to food). Felix found his hat thrown aside, none too carefully, on an armchair. He bounded toward it as if he were Vanellope eying the last treat in the candy shop and jammed it protectively back on his head, glancing apprehensively toward the kitchen.

"I made dinner, Fix-It," he heard Tamora call amidst the clanging of pots and pans. "Why don't you get over here and sit yourself down."

"Sounds delightful," Felix answered, more jovially than he really felt. As he passed the mirror in the hallway between the front room and the kitchen, he couldn't help but stop, take off his hat, and assimilate just how different his hair looked. It had originally been somewhat of a honey-brown shade, something perfectly natural and unassuming. And now…well, now it was almost _white_, for landsakes! He looked perfectly abominable. Tammy would certainly think so, he was sure of it! At least…she would, if she ever found out.

"Felix?"

"Just a second!" Felix called, attempting to smooth his bangs up toward the top of his head so they wouldn't be visible under his hat. Every effort led to failure. Maybe he could run to the bathroom and use some hair gel—

"What's keeping you, shortstuff?"

Left without much choice Felix spit into his palm, feeling his insides squirm at the rather uncouth deed, and flattened his bangs up until he found it sufficient, then pulled on his hat (a little further down than usual, in hopes of obscuring what was exposed as much as possible) and dashed into the kitchen.

His manner of arrival must have let on some of his anxiety, because Tamora raised an eyebrow as he skidded to a stop in front of her. Felix felt his cheeks flush and he made his way to his seat, much slower this time, casting a nervous glance her way. Jeepers, she was staring at him—his face grew hotter and probably redder and at last he hid behind his palms in embarrassment. He heard her chuckle a little, and then there was the creak of chair legs against wood and he heard her sit down.

Felix eventually overcame enough discomfiture to remove his hands from his face and examine the food on his plate. It looked something like macaroni and cheese, but some of the edges appeared to be charred. He poked it with his fork. A rubbery texture was perceived. He looked up at Tammy, who had already begun eating in a stoic, mechanical rhythm, not looking at her food. Her countenance was void of expression, but Felix could tell she wasn't excessively delighted with her creation. Tammy met his eyes and put down her fork long enough to speak.

"Eat your dinner, Felix."

"…What is it?"

Tamora paused.

"Dinner."

Felix didn't dare question further, and resigned himself to quietly saying grace and swallowing down mouthfuls of partially overcooked, partially undercooked, partially burnt macaroni and cheese. It didn't taste bad, per se. It just didn't exactly taste…outstanding. Felix scolded himself for being so spoiled, as Tammy could probably only _wish_ she had gotten homemade macaroni and cheese in her days of space marine training or whatever it was she was programmed with.

"It's awful good," Felix offered, hoping to keep his wife's feelings from being injured, even if she didn't especially seem to be affected.

"What's awful good?"

"Your mac and cheese is awful good."

"Don't lie to me, Felix. It's just awful, let alone good," Tammy retorted, leaving Felix to linger on her wordplay. A short silence followed.

"So Felix, how was—"

"Tammy—"

"Oh."

"Oh, I apologize, you first, Tammy…"

"No, go ahead, Felix."

"Are you sure, Tamora, it wasn't really anything import—"

"No, Felix, I insist."

"Really, I was only going to say something silly."

"Then _say_ it, sweetheart! Honestly," Tammy said in an exasperated manner, focused on her dinner. Felix hesitated.

"Tammy, how would you react if you found out I was blond?"

At first, Tamora didn't seem to hear the question, but a moment later Felix could almost feel it register in her mind. She stopped chewing and looked at him. No, _gawked_ at him. Felix sank lower in his seat and wished he could disappear, somewhat regretting the question.

"What, _are_ you blond?"

"No, no, I'm not! I was just…wondering."

Tammy set down her fork and leaned back in her chair, covering her lips with a napkin in apparent thought. Her eyes explored the ceiling for answer. In a second or two she leaned forward again, folded the napkin, and resumed eating.

"You asked what I'd do if you went blond?"

"Um…yes."

Tammy didn't skip a beat.

"I'd disown you. I would deny any knowledge of your existence. I'd turn you from the house. I'd tell you what I thought you looked like, _exactly_ what I thought you looked like, without mincing a single word. I would bring you out of doors and humiliate you publicly—with great intensity— just to give you a mere _hint_ of the disgrace that I myself would feel, if you went blond."

Tammy concluded with a great amount of flourish. Felix might have been impressed, if he hadn't been so shocked. When she had finished speaking, all he could do was squeak, "You'd really do all that?"

"Yeah, you heard me," Tammy smirked. "Look, I love you the way you are, okay? You don't have to change a thing. Besides, you'd look hideous. Not everyone can pull off the look as well as I do, so keep that in mind."

Shaken, Felix nodded and took another bite of his food as Tamora resumed her original query.

"How was your day?"

Felix forced down what was in his mouth and set down his fork.

"O-oh…well, fine, I suppose…"

Tammy's voice took a bit of a sarcastic edge. "And how was Miss President von Schweetz?"

Felix's hand automatically went to his hat at the mention of his unsolicited hairstylist. "Same as always. Loud…boisterous…heh, she's certainly a lively li'l thing."

"Too lively," Tammy sniffed, the lines around her mouth forming the traces of a scowl as she stabbed at her food. "Hope she didn't torture you out of your wits…"

"No," Felix answered. "She…she behaved herself well."

Tammy's eyebrow went up again. "You said 'same as always'. Behaving herself would not be same as always, Felix."

"Ah…well…" Felix stopped, now lost. He tried to track where the conversation had gone, but he was too muddled. Luckily, he didn't have to think long before Tamora started talking again.

"Were you tired today? You could barely keep your little eyes open last night."

"Oh, not at all!" Felix assured her, half-distracted, stifling a yawn as he did so. Tammy snickered.

"What is it?"

"You're a bad liar, Fix-It."

Felix had already been under stress from the beginning. But with this particular statement, all casual manner abandoned him and his pent-up unease unwound itself before he could react.

"Lying!" he found himself exclaiming, his one hand on his hat clutching tighter. "Lying—I'm not lying. I'm not hiding anything, Tammy, I've got nothing to hide! No secrets here. I could never keep anything from you, Tammy, and you know it—you're the last person I'd lie to, especially if it was something about being blond—and I'm not blond, by the way—but if I _was_ blond, which I'm not, I wouldn't try to hide it from you because I was embarrassed or something, I'd tell you straight away and that's the truth, because I wouldn't lie to you and I absolutely don't keep secrets from you, and—" Felix finally got himself to stop by shoving a forkful of macaroni into his mouth.

Tamora could do little else but stare at him, and Felix felt his cheeks grow hot. He began to wish he had just kept silent.

After what seemed like hours, Tammy dismissed his wordy blunder with the mere indication of a nod and readdressed her attention to her plate. Felix allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Junebugs in July, it was almost as if his mouth had a mind of his own… He had been speaking awful fast, thankfully. Tammy had probably only been able to pick up five or six words at most.

For the most part, dinner conversation ceased. Maybe it was because Felix didn't dare open his mouth again, for fear of letting something more slip, or maybe it was because both were too busy chewing Tammy's rubber macaroni. Either way, both remained quiet until Tammy stood and picked up her plate, signaling she was done, and carried it over to the sink to wash.

"You're usually chattier than this, soldier."

Felix merely nodded to the remains of his dinner. Tammy allowed pause.

"You've also had your hand on your hat this entire while—care to tell me what that's all about?"

Felix gave a start. Jiminy jaminy! Had he? He hadn't even realized… Felix quickly brought down his arm, feeling its blood flow and consequently its sensation return. He wiggled his fingers a bit and realized his palms were sweaty underneath his gloves.

Tammy turned to look over her shoulder and switched off the water tap, the beginnings of suspicion kindling in her eyes.

"Is there something under that hat I should see?"

"No!" Felix cried out quickly, throwing his hands out in front of him crosswise. He realized too late that such an outburst was all the encouragement Tamora needed to realize the answer was quite the contrary. She narrowed her eyes and looked him up and down.

"Felix?"

"Y…yes?"

"Is your hair…lighter?"

"No! No, no, no, it's not, it's not, it's just that—it's just that the light must be hitting it strange," Felix babbled, willing her not to come any closer. Tammy dried her hands on a kitchen towel, but didn't take her eagle eyes off him for a second. Felix gulped as she stood up straight, almost in slow motion it seemed, and began to approach him like a panther or some other dangerous cat of the wild cornering its prey.

_Think, Felix! Think before she finds out!_

"I-I have to use the restroom," Felix choked out, and darted off before she could stop him.

He was aware of Tammy calling something after him as he ran, but he didn't listen, his legs flashing out in front of him, heart racing, mind reeling; he only allowed himself to stop and breathe once he was behind the locked door of the bathroom.

_You've got to do something, Felix, something, anything! You can't let her find out!_

Felix fidgeted with his fingers for a few brief moments of flustered tension. Finally he took off his hat and hung it on a towel hook, then turned to the sink he called his own (the one with a more accessible, Felix-sized height) and faced the mirror. He still had no idea what his plan was, but he pulled off his gloves and let them drop to the floor—left, right. He took a breath, leaned over, and began splashing water into his hair.

He couldn't say he knew much about hair bleach, if it was any different from dye. Technically, once he thought about it, hair dye seemed to add color while hair bleach seemed to remove it—but maybe both could wash out? Just maybe? Felix had an awful feeling it wouldn't help—he practically knew for a fact it wouldn't help. But Felix was a determined fellow, and wasn't about to let anything—not even his own knowledge—deter him from attempting anything and everything possible.

He _had_ to try, he told himself, hopping over to the shower to grab the bottle of strawberry-scented shampoo, water sopping from his hair and hands. He squeezed a generous amount into his palm, and saying a silent prayer, began to scrub vigorously into his scalp. Water and strawberry shampoo lather spilled down his face, clinging to his eyelashes and nearly getting into his eyes. He scrubbed until his fingertips and his wrists were sore, then leaned back over the sink bowl and turned on the faucet, rinsing out all the suds. Felix lifted his head again and groped blindly behind himself for a towel. He took hold of something and wiped his face across it, realizing too late that it was his own hat.

Frustrated, Felix tossed his hat to the tile, which now had puddles of water and bubbles, and grabbed a real towel, drying his face and hair. Hoping in vain that some effect had occurred, he turned back to the mirror.

He let loose a discouraged sigh. His hair was exactly the same as it had been previous, albeit now smelling strongly of strawberries, and being mussed up in every direction from the towel drying. In fact, he was almost inclined to believe that it was even _blonder_. He had tripped a couple times on his way from Vanellope's castle, and he wouldn't have been surprised if his hair had afterwards contained traces of chocolate powder, lessening the effect.

He had to face the truth. He just couldn't fix it.

Wait.

_Fix it_.

Felix smacked his palm against his forehead for not thinking of it earlier. His hammer, of course! Eagerly he pulled the golden implement from his belt, knowing that its supernatural ability to fix any object would surely return his hair to its original state. It _had_ to!

He tapped the hammer to his head and waited for effect to take place. But, strangely enough…nothing happened.

Felix felt his heart stop. This had to be a mistake. He tried again, and again, and tried hitting it harder and harder. But all he gained were a couple of painful bruises on his cranium.

"No," he whispered in stunned disbelief. Could it be that his hammer wasn't working? Felix frantically grabbed for the bar of soap by the sink, his wet hands causing the soap's surface to lubricate itself. It shot clumsily out of his hands, striking him square in the eye.

"Ow!"

He picked the soap up off the floor, more carefully this time, and took his toothbrush from the counter. Using the toothbrush's non-bristled end, he split the bar of soap—none too easily—into two jagged halves. Then he fumbled with his hammer—the soap had left a slippery lather on his hands that made it hard to grab _anything_—and knocked it against the two halves. With an 8-bit _bling!_ the bar of soap became whole again, and looking in much better condition than it had before. Felix gave a disheartened moan.

"Then why…?" he began, but stopped with a sigh. He slammed his back to the wall and slid down in defeat, cradling his head in his hands. What a mess it was…! There was just nothing he could do to change the fact that he would be blond for the time being…

"Fix-It? Are you in there?" Tamora called from outside, making Felix jump. He didn't answer right away. Maybe he could just spend the rest of the night in the bathroom until his hair went back to normal.

"Felix…? …Are you okay?"

Felix felt his heart flutter at the genuine concern in his wife's tone. Even if Tammy allowed herself to be more open, more vulnerable around him than she did around anyone else, she didn't always place emotion within her words. But when she did, well, that was something to treasure…

"Answer me, Felix."

Felix ignored the instruction, not knowing what else to do.

"Felix...please don't make me beg…" he heard Tammy plead softly. Felix swallowed a lump in his throat and closed his eyes. He hated hearing Tammy sound helpless almost as much as she did. Luckily, he didn't have to take much more of it, as Tamora chose to switch tactics in only a matter of instants.

"…Listen Felix, if you don't open this door _right now_, so help me I will break it down _myself_. You've got a couple seconds, soldier! One…two…"

"Don't come in!" Felix yelped, scrambling closer against the wall, knowing full well that Tamora would stay true to her threat. "Please, Tammy! Don't look at me, I'm downright unsightly!"

"'Downright unsightly'? What the blazes are you talking about? You look fine—_adorable_ even! Look, Felix, it's not like I'm going to get mad at you just because you bleached your hair blond!"

Felix was immobilized with shock. Jiminy jaminy. Tammy knew!

"Tammy!" he moaned, putting both hands up to his strawberry-scented, peroxide blond hair on impulse. "How did you know—how did you find out—who told you?!"

"Felix. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Felix had no choice to answer with anything but "no".

"You brought it up twice at dinner and your hat doesn't cover all of your hair. Besides, I've come to expect these kinds of _defacements_ when you come back from Vanellope's—now come on out."

"But can't I just stay in here—"

"Listen up, shortstack, if you're not out of there in _five_ seconds—!"

Tammy didn't even have to finish her warning. Felix obediently unlocked the door for her, but kept both hands on his head and sank back to the floor, huddling up in preparation for the worst. He heard Tammy's footsteps on the tile as she stepped into the bathroom.

"Okay, let's see the damage. Take your hands off, Fix-It."

"But I don't want…"

"_Take_ your hands _off_, Fix-It."

Felix sighed and timidly removed his hands, his eyes still fixed to the floor. He waited in shame, knowing that he was really in for it now—there was no way that Tamora could be anything less than upset. Or worse, she might laugh at him—tell him he looked awful—tell him she didn't want anything to do with him—

But that was going too far, he knew she'd never say that—oh, jiminy jaminy, why didn't she _speak_? Every added second of silence weighed down on his nerves something terrible—he couldn't keep from feeling like he was a bug under a microscope. A fair-haired bug that couldn't stand up to little practical jokesters and couldn't keep secrets and…and…and couldn't think straight. His thoughts were going a mile a minute like a runaway train—they weren't even making _sense_ anymore—sweet mercy, why didn't Tammy _say something_ already?!

First seconds and then minutes passed. Felix didn't grow any less uncomfortable. He was almost ready to lose it completely when Tammy finally spoke.

"…Hm. You look pretty glam," was the dry verdict given at long last. Nothing more was said, and Felix feared that that was a bad sign.

Slowly, he built up enough courage to meet her scrutinizing eyes.

"Tammy…?"

"Mm," Tamora murmured in reply, her eyes still fixated above his forehead.

"…Tammy, please don't disown me."

To his surprise, Tammy reacted almost as if she was clueless. Felix was even close enough to see that her pupils contracted as he asked the question, a definite tip off that the subject had been previously unthought-of in her mind.

"_Disown_ you?" she repeated, lowering her gaze to meet his and furrowing her brow. "What in the world are you talking about?"

Felix looked away. Perhaps reminding her hadn't been a good idea. "Well…you told me if I dyed my hair blond you'd disown me, and pretend you didn't know me, and lock me out of the house, and plenty of other things."

Tammy's expression didn't change, but the corners of her mouth twitched and her eyes began to water. She turned around and coughed violently for a few seconds, but when she turned back she looked as if she was suppressing a grin. Felix was inclined to believe that she had just laughed at him, though he hadn't an inkling why. She _had_ said all that, hadn't she?

Tammy had to take another moment to regain her composure, thus adding more support to Felix's supposition.

"Oh, Felix, you little sweetheart," she said when she was able to speak, running her fingers through her hair in evident amusement. "I'm proud to call you my husband. You know I wouldn't do that."

Felix felt his muscles relax in relief. "You wouldn't?"

Tammy crouched down and lifted his chin tenderly. She kissed him on the nose. "Nope."

Felix gave a faltering giggle as Tammy leaned back to examine his hair a second time. She ran her fingertips through it.

"Vanellope do this to you?"

"Yes'm."

"And you let her?"

"No ma'am. I was…well, I fell asleep, and she…I guess she decided to have a little fun…"

Tammy gave a nod of acknowledgement as Felix trailed off. She stroked his hair a little while longer before picking up his hat and gloves, handing them to him, and standing back up. She held out a hand and helped him up as well.

"Well, Fix-It, I'd say this ordeal certainly beats the time Vanellope sent you home with those 'temporary' unicorn tattoos."

"They _were_ temporary. They came off…"

"Yes, they came off. After I scrubbed your face with a _kitchen_ sponge for twenty minutes... C'mon, Felix."

Tammy motioned for him to follow her out of the bathroom, but Felix stayed where he was, playing with the brim of his hat. He still couldn't help but feel pretty outlandish and a little intimidated in her presence—he felt he could sense that Tammy was less than proud of him.

Tamora's look softened at his insecurity, and she leaned down again to place an encouraging hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Tammy…" Felix said in a troubled tone, "I tried to fix my hair with my hammer, but it didn't work…"

Tamora was silent for a moment or two.

"…Well, your hammer only fixes what's broken."

"And my hair's not broken?"

"Exactly," Tammy agreed. Felix took some time to contemplate this quietly.

"…Hey, Felix."

"Yes?"

"You know how I said only a few people can pull off the look…"

"…as well as you do," Felix finished. "Yes."

Tammy paused. "…Well, I think you're one of those few," she said, giving him a small smile.

All dispiritedness left him and Felix perked up immediately. "Really? You really think so? And—and you're not mad at me?"

"Oh, yeah," Tammy said, nodding enthusiastically. "And of course I'm not mad at you. I love you, Felix, blond or no."

Felix laughed out loud. Tammy couldn't have said anything else to make him happier.

"I love you too, Tammy!" he beamed, and kissed her full on the lips before she could do a thing to stop him. Tammy chuckled and wrapped him in a hug, her fingers nestling into the hair that had caused Felix an entire evening's anxiety, and all for nothing.

Felix pulled away early and grinned. "So—so you think I should do this again?"

Tammy blinked and gave him a horrified stare.

"'Cause—'cause I can do it again—if you want me to—"

Tammy slapped him hard and left him to interpret that answer on his own.


End file.
